"I realised one day, as I gazed out on the treetops outside the bedroom of our little cottage, that the usual post-coital rush of a sense of vitality infusing the world, of delight with myself and with all around me, and of creative energy rushing through everything alive, was no longer following the physical pleasure."

Something is infusing my world right now, I'll tell you that.

"I felt I was losing somehow, what made me a woman, and that I could not face living in this condition for the rest of my life."

[New York gynaecologist Dr Deborah] Coady told her it could be a problem with the pelvic nerve - her area of expertise - being compressed and [causing] numbness....

She was referred to Dr Jeffrey Cole, an expert in muscular-skeletal medicine who x-rayed her back and found a crumbling of her vertebrae, even though she had never experienced pain or back problems....

Dr Cole told her: ‘All women’s wiring is different. That’s the reason women respond so differently from one another sexually. The pelvic nerve branches in very individual ways for every woman. These differences are physical’.

He added that men’s sexual wiring is much more uniform.

Yes, once again we learn that we women are so fabulously multidimensional and men are so simple. So let me tell it to you straight: Cough up the tax money to pay for the fancy diagnostics of our neural misalignments and the surgery to reconnect us so we can have "the ‘blended’ clitoral and vaginal orgasms" that will return women to "the sense of deep emotional union, of post-coital creative euphoria, of joy with oneself and one’s lover… and the sense that all was well in some existential way, that [Naomi Wolf] thought [she] had lost for ever." And don't be raising any of your war-on-women objections.

Is it really the story of her vagina? Seems more like the story of a few of her vertebrae. But it's all connected. Elaborately. Complexly. Mysteriously. Now, shut up while I gaze upon the treetops outside the bedroom of my little cottage and contemplate the extent of my euphoria.

ADDED: She's writing the kind of claptrap that feminists used to quote for the purpose of mockery.

I read suit like this and my knee jerk reaction is almost totally chauvinistic. I suspect that ti's is one of her goals. It's like feminist trolling. I'm so glad to be a man with my one dimensional orgasm.

It's funny that contemporary "feminism" has cultivated this image of women as obsessive twat-starers. That's fine, dears, you just sit there and gaze out on the treetops outside the bedroom of your little cottage, in your post-coital rush of a sense of vitality infusing the world, delighted with yourself, while the men make the world work and send robots to Mars.

Do we know the reason for the crumbling of Ms. Wolf's vertebrae? My conjecture is that this is a long term consequence of carrying around the mantle of moral superiority as she has done lo these many years. Must get heavy after a while...

I guess I'm a little skeptical that back surgery is so advanced these days that they can just move your vertebrae around a bit and achieve the desired effect on the precise nerve that runs to your feminine pleasure centers. Seems very junk-sciency. Probably a placebo effect more than anything else.

From our most trusted source, wiki:For at least two thousand years of European history until the late nineteenth century hysteria referred to a medical condition thought to be particular to women and caused by disturbances of the uterus (from the Greek ὑστέρα "hystera" = uterus), such as when a neonate emerges from the female birth canal. The origin of the term hysteria is commonly attributed to Hippocrates, even though the term isn't used in the writings that are collectively known as the Hippocratic corpus.[1] The Hippocratic corpus refers to a variety of illness symptoms, such as suffocation and Heracles' disease, that were supposedly caused by the movement of a woman's uterus to various locations within her body as it became light and dry due to a lack of bodily fluids.[1] One passage recommends pregnancy to cure such symptoms, ostensibly because intercourse will "moisten" the womb and facilitate blood circulation within the body.[1] The "wandering womb" theory persisted in European medicine for centuries.

By the mid to late 19th century, hysteria (or sometimes female hysteria) came to refer to what is today generally considered to be sexual dysfunction.[2] Typical treatment was massage of the patient's genitalia by the physician and, later, by vibrators or water sprays to cause orgasm.[2]

I used to listen to my grandma and her friends talk as they quilted. This Naomi monologue sounds a lot like them when they got talking about their "female surgeries." Actually, about surgeries and doctors in general.

When I look at her picture it's difficult not to focus on the area in question. As if there were something unique and special there that no one else ever had.

If I know Wolfe, first she'll do a book about her vagina, then a monograph on her clit, a magazine article about her G-spot, a documentary on her breasts. By then she'll be 70 and the fiber in her diet will no longer be adequate so she'll start a daily tweet on her bowel movements.

Oh to be a writer who went to Yale and studied (apparently literally) under the esteemed critic Harold Bloom.

What pathetic self-loathing, limp-dicked, half-a-fag is fucking her? God, left-wing men are so sackless and desperate, they'll take ANY pussy, no matter how used up, fat, bloated, old, pseudo-intellectual, and annoying.

When an unexpected medical crisis sends Naomi Wolf on a deeply personal journey to tease out the intersections between sexuality and creativity, she discovers, much to her own astonishment, an increasing body of scientific evidence that suggests that the vagina is not merely flesh, but an intrinsic component of the female brain—and thus has a fundamental connection to female consciousness itself.

In other words, when the Victorians thought that female consciousness was hysterical (womb-dominated), they weren't wrong in theory, just off by a few inches.

Just remember, if you had an orgasm, you didn't build that. Somebone else had a hand in it.

THE MEME!

She just needs to buy Mr. Vagina Wolf a bottle of these little blue pills. Or some extenze...the ol' hedgehog recommends them!

Or maybe, just maybe, men and women weren't meant to be fucking like bunnies as they get older. I mean Jeez, my wife is kinda' glad we've slowed down. For me to clean up just takes a wash rag, for her, it's a goddamn medical procedure.

"Their goal is to dehumanize everyone’s dignity and reduce us to a vagina, anus, or some other body cavity for the sole purpose of exploiting our sexuality."

Defining a human life by its biological continuity seems to engender a much more endearing perspective.

Oh well. Dreams of instant gratification will not be denied. Perhaps some individuals are little more than the sum of their parts. It's a shallow outlook on life, which is ideal for generation terminal.

Seriously, after reading Ms. Wolf's little description of her post-coital infused epiphany, I had my own epiphany of wanting to punch her in the head while hearing Joe Bidens voice saying "Unchained Vaginas!!! They'll put y'alls vaginas back in chains."

Perhaps Ms. Wolf has not gone far enough. Perhaps her solution lies a few inches south within another network of nerves.

Perhaps she needs to take a cue from Toni Bentley, who danced for ten years with the NYC Ballet under the master Balanchine, then afterward went on to write The Surrender.

Bliss, I learned from being sodomized, is an experience of eternity in a moment of real time ... The penetration is deeper, more profound; it rides the edge of sanity. The direct path ... to God, has become clear, has been cleared.

Not just emotional intimacy with a partner, but with God! Why settle for less?

I think this is a sub-genre of that enduring feminist topic, "You don't understand me".....Naomi certainly has an unusually complicated vagina. Perhaps this is a way of legitimizing her doctor fetish. I think she could find happiness with any competent neurologist provided he has done some cross training in gynecology.

She lost me completely when she started going on about how hot a burqa was. At that point you've officially become a nutty lady and I don't want to hear your spoiled, sheltered musings about your spoiled, sheltered vagina.

I literally spent all day following a bunch of aging Code Pink women dressed as pink glittery vaginas lurching around downtown Tampa as they howled about the Republicans imposing on their vaginas, their labial folds flapping in the pre-hurricane breezes.

There's a reason your head is at the North Pole and your Melvin ( my word for vagina) is at the South Pole and it's this: out of sight, out of mind. Ladies, are you really obsessing about a place on your body that you need a mirror and flashlight to gaze upon? Pull up your pants and get on with your life.

Is there a preferred ratio for a blended orgasm? Is it 80/20 or 60/40 or just 50/50?

We've been doing okay with 100/100 but I want to comply with all the regulations.

Is there a winter blend to cut down on smog, you know, like winter blend gasoline?

We have used ethanol from time to time to augment the blend, but the blend is inconsistant, mainly due to poor bartending skills. Plus, a too-high ethanol component in the blend tends to negate the other components.

Between HuffPo writing about anal tatoos and Naomi Wolf scribing whole books about her vagina, we've managed to obliterate everything beautiful and romantic about making love. I swear, the Japanese sex robots are more sensitive and subtle than the progs.

Seriously, I read a lot: books and online and magazines and blogs and mainstream journalism and everything I can get my hands on, and I encounter all this navel-gazing and complexity-inventing, and then I return to the real world and interact with my coworkers, my church, my kids' friends' parents, their coaches and scout leaders and teachers, my husband's coworkers and people who come to my house to fix the airconditioning and the oil field and offshore rig workers in my town here in Texas and I think: Not a single person I come across in a month knows or cares who Naomi Wolf is or gives two shits about her vagina, and would look at her like she was a crazy person if she talked to them about same.

Don't forget Naomi wrote a breathless account prior to the last election that the Republican Police State was coming, because her children's report cards and party invitations were being lost in the mail...

suggests that the vagina is not merely flesh, but an intrinsic component of the female brain—and thus has a fundamental connection to female consciousness itself.

Isn't that the same as saying that women think with their pussies?

This is rich. After generations of women complaining that men think only with their "little head", they now want us to believe that thinking with our genitals is a good thing. Well, at least when women do it. Anything men do naturally is unfortunate at best.

My book owes everything to the feminist movement. I am a product of that. I am a woman who had this experience that was very unconventional … I am interested in my sex: in experiencing it and in the powers it holds for me. I am interested in our freedoms: You’re a woman and I’m a woman having this conversation about this kind of book — this is fantastic! But I think some women will protest the obvious things that I am talking about: submitting or surrender. I say feminism gave me the freedom to submit. Isn’t this what we all want from feminism? The ability to choose conventional monogamy is a great option but not the only option.

And my ability to submit — I wouldn’t have been a woman who could have done that even 10 or 20 years ago.

creeley23 said...

Perhaps Ms. Wolf has not gone far enough. Perhaps her solution lies a few inches south within another network of nerves.

Perhaps she needs to take a cue from Toni Bentley, who danced for ten years with the NYC Ballet under the master Balanchine, then afterward went on to write The Surrender.

Bliss, I learned from being sodomized, is an experience of eternity in a moment of real time ... The penetration is deeper, more profound; it rides the edge of sanity. The direct path ... to God, has become clear, has been cleared.

Not just emotional intimacy with a partner, but with God! Why settle for less?

Sounds almost like Wolf lifted her experience from Bentley and projected it to her vagina, unlike Bentley did to her ass.

...she discovers, much to her own astonishment, an increasing body of scientific evidence that suggests that the vagina is not merely flesh, but an intrinsic component of the female brain—and thus has a fundamental connection to female consciousness itself.

So... the premise of the entire book is that women think with their twats? And this is somehow empowering? When men think with their dicks it is supposed to be a bad thing.

Seriously, I read a lot: books and online and magazines and blogs and mainstream journalism and everything I can get my hands on, and I encounter all this navel-gazing and complexity-inventing, and then I return to the real world and interact with my coworkers, my church, my kids' friends' parents, their coaches and scout leaders and teachers, my husband's coworkers and people who come to my house to fix the airconditioning and the oil field and offshore rig workers in my town here in Texas and I think: Not a single person I come across in a month knows or cares who Naomi Wolf is or gives two shits about her vagina, and would look at her like she was a crazy person if she talked to them about same.

This is he great confusion of leftards vs. conservatives. Leftards want to wax poetically and soliloquy about the most utterly mundane nonsense they can conjure from within the deep recesses of their ever thinking minds. Thinking that in doing so they will come off as well-intentioned, deep thinking, intellectually heavy orators of whatever it is they are disseminating on to try and pass off this utter nonsense as a type of masterful intuitive knowledge that only they possess. While conservatives can and do often ignore the gnats of the solemn vapors that these leftards project and mentally bin them as being irrelevant and unrelatable and therefore not worthy of their notice. Or what I like better is, is that conservatives can take even the higher level concepts that these leftards project and distill them into simple, understandable concepts without so much as a how do you do.

...she discovers, much to her own astonishment, an increasing body of scientific evidence that suggests that the vagina is not merely flesh, but an intrinsic component of the female brain—and thus has a fundamental connection to female consciousness itself.

So... the premise of the entire book is that women think with their twats? And this is somehow empowering? When men think with their dicks it is supposed to be a bad thing.

NW: Well, you see.. it's about my orgasms... well, not really. My orgasms are actually really, REALLY great! BUT... afterwards... it's, like... you know what I mean? There's just like... kinda something missing. Not like it was, when I felt it tune with the universe and full of self-realization... You know?

Rcpt: Ma'm, we're very busy here. Do you have a problem you need to see the doctor about? Otherwise I don't think we can help you. Next?

She went to the top of a holy mountain and the guru, sitting in the lotus position, said, "My good liberal, to reach the final stage of joy and enlightenment you seek, you must go though the healthcare system."

The Vagina Cult. At least the penis cult people had a sense of humor. Priapus was kind of a joke. Vagina Cult people sound very serious and boring, like they need to get laid properly. Hey, there, problem solved.